


can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

by romcommunism



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Cheating, Friends to Lovers, M/M, ajd then immediately hop into emotional repression, and i HATE IT HERE, i have decided to entirely rewrite canon to fit my taubner agenda bc i am Very Stupid and Very Tired, i have not SLEPT because my adhd will not SHUT UP abt these IDIOTS, this fic is Slow Burn For Dummies bc they kiss after being friends for like seven hours, this is how i enter the house md tag WHAT'S UP FUCKERS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romcommunism/pseuds/romcommunism
Summary: you tell me you love her, i give you a grinall i ever wanted was a life in your shapeso i follow the white lineskeep my eyes on the road as i achea canon rewrite for taubner written by an adhd moron
Relationships: Lawrence Kutner/Chris Taub
Comments: 12
Kudos: 8





	1. you don't want to know

**Author's Note:**

> *me, leaning w my head against a house md poster like that one scene from the good place* oh hugh we're really in it now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *its always sunny title card font* taub and kutner fuck up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning it gets a lil spicy at the end there but there's nothing explicit because i am not a) qualified or b) comfortable writing that

Taub's got one foot through the door of the locker room before he's whapped in the chest with a cane and pushed back into the quiet of the hallway.

" _Shush_ ," House says in the stage whisper, holding a finger up to his lips. "My soap's on."

"I expect you to come because he's expecting you to be there." Cole's voice echoes from the locker room; he's calm because he's Cole, he always is, but there's this sort of desperation leaking into his voice, like he's begging but casually. "I _know_ I messed up-"

"Yeah, you did." It's Kutner now, but Taub only figures that out through context clues, because the voice sounds so un-Kutner-like it's almost unrecognizable. It's flat and distant, almost like he's zoned out.

"Yes, I did, I put a job above our friendship, and it was a mistake. But you can't take that out on my kid, it's not fair to him."

"Get someone else to take him, then."

"I can't, he _loves_ you, and you know that. He'd be heartbroken if you weren't there. You don't even have to see me if you don't want to, I could just drop him off-"

"I think it'd be more important to him for him to spend time with his dad than his dad's coworker he gets passed off to on weekends." 

A silence falls over the locker room, heavy and humid, thick like fog. House elbows Taub in the shoulder, harder than at all necessary, and mouths _"Wow"_ with this look of shining, chaotic glee in his eyes, and Taub remembers an argument he and Cuddy got into in the hallway earlier in the week about downgrading the hospital cable package to only include "educational channels." Taub can count on one hand how many days that's going to last.

When Kutner speaks next, it's a thin whisper, almost too quiet to hear over the rumble of the heating unit. "I'm sorry, that was... mean. I don't know where that came from."

"It's alright. " Cole's voice is tighter than it was before, more watery and shaky, like he's holding back tears. "Look, you're obviously angry, I understand-"

"I'll take him."

"You will?" Cole's surprised, and he chuckles a little bit, hollow and empty. "But I hadn't even gotten through all my groveling yet." It's not a great joke, it's barely even a joke, but it's an olive branch. An offer for things to go back to normal.

Kutner doesn't laugh, and his silence makes the olive branch shrivel up into pimentos of awkwardness. Taub cringes on Cole's behalf (He doesn't think he's ever heard Kutner _not_ laugh at something, before) at the slam of a locker door and the jingling of keys. "You're right. This doesn't involve him."

"Thank you for understanding." Cole's relieved, Taub can tell, but his voice is still trembling. "You don't know how much this means to me, Lawrence-"

"I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for your kid." Kutner says, and there's no anger, but it's sharp and prickly. "There's a difference. You'll need to find somebody else after Saturday. I think my neighbor's oldest does babysitting, if you want someone in the area."

Cole inhales and Taub doesn't hear him let go of the breath, the only sound in the locker room is the zipping of a backpack, the rustle of a jacket, and the low din of the heater. "I am sorry." he says. "For everything, I mean. Not just this."

"You're sorry because it came back to bite you in the ass. And not just this; _everything_." Kutner says, and then somebody's talking, Taub doesn't know who, it's a mumbly whisper, almost indiscernible from the rest of the white noise.

House bangs on the wall with his cane, and Taub leaps backwards, which is ridiculous, he realizes; he has no reason to be scared of getting caught, they were talking in a public area, and yet he feels like he's being invasive. "You're gonna have to work on your annunciation, boys, the audience can't hear you!"

There's a beat of silence before Kutner says back "He asked me to marry him." His voice is plain and flat, but loud enough to cut over the drone of the heater. "I said 'no.'"

"Damn it, there go all my predictions for the finale." House says, and Taub stares at him, mortified. "Really thought you two lovebirds were gonna make it through this one."

There's the smack of rubber soles on tiled floor, and Kutner's head peeks out from the doorframe, looking tired. "Sorry to disappoint, but he's got a kid and I'm just not ready for that kind of commitment."

"Clearly, neither is he, judging by the way he threw you under the bus. Very un-Mormon of you, by the way," House shouts into the locker room. "What would Joseph Smith say?"

"He'd say 'now's not the time.'" Cole yells back, and he sounds angry, angrier than when he clocked House in the nose, and Taub takes a generous step back, because he's not getting involved in that bloodbath, no thank you.

Kutner sighs and steps fully into the hallway, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulders, and Taub could swear he's never seen this man before in his life. His face is expressionless and he's standing so still he could be some sort of contemporary statue entitled _Moderately Rumpled Frat Boy_. His eyes are focused down at his shoes and his hands are still, shoved into his coat pockets, completely different from the usual "unmedicated adult ADHD" Kutner.

"So is there anything else the two of you need to get off your chest, preferably in front of me? In half-hour to forty five minute format, not accounting for commercial breaks, of course." House says, leaning forward against his cane. "Wonder if I have DVR space left for _Days of Our Love Muffins_." 

Cole finally comes into Taub's line of sight, his jacket's haphazardly thrown on and he's staring at Kutner desperately, like he's asking him to say anything at all, even an insult.

"Nope," Kutner says, and he starts down the hallway towards the elevator, and Taub suddenly remembers Kutner mentioning off-handedly that he takes the bus to work, something about New Jersey streets being too narrow for it to even be worth him getting a car. Taub feels his feet moving without even thinking, jogging a little to catch up with him ( _Jesus_ , Kutner's got long legs, maybe that's why he's so clumsy) and he's a little winded when he stops him in the middle of pressing the call button.

"Do you wanna grab a drink?" he asks, and he has no idea why. It's not like he and Kutner are very close; closest he's had to a real conversation with the guy is making fun of Henry- or whatever his name was, the point was he wasn't a _doctor_ \- together. _Maybe he just looks like he needs it,_ Taub thinks, and _yes_ , that will be the rationale he's going with, Taub is being a good samaritan and helping out a citizen in need by getting him wasted. He decides this will be his act of altruism for the day, because God knows he was pretty much useless on this case.

Kutner stares at him for a second, and his eyes flick up behind Taub, back down the hallway, almost imperceptibly. Taub sneaks a peek that way and sees House, staring at them, while Cole pretends to be incredibly interested in a potted ficus. When he looks back, Kutner's smiling at him, a little weak, but much more like the Kutner he's used to seeing, perpetually grinning, like some sort of poster they paste up outside of colleges; smiling, diversity-quota meeting twenty year olds, frozen in time to trick people into studying medicine.

"Sure."

-

He lets Kutner pick the bar, ( _Because I'm nice,_ he tells himself, but if he's honest it's because he hasn't been out drinking anywhere that's not his living room since the _C-word_ shit hit the fan at his old surgery practice), and Kutner picks a rundown little place close to his apartment called _Cheers_.

"Like the show, except worse, and Ted Danson's not there." he explains, and Taub's glad to see Kutner's feeling better, irrelevant pop culture references and all.

"I was always more of a _Frasier_ guy, myself."

"Of course you were."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Taub asks, side-eyeing him from the drivers seat, and Kutner looks embarrassed, like he didn't mean to say that out loud.

"You just seem like the type." he says slowly, testing the water.

"The Jewish type?"

"Frasier wasn't Jewish, that was like the whole premise of multiple episodes. If I wanted to call you Jewish in a roundabout way, I would've called you the _Seinfeld_ type."

"How flattering. What do you mean, then?"

"I don't know," Kutner shrugs, and he stares out the window, picking at a loose thread in his jeans (How he gets away with wearing them to work, Taub'll never understand). "Just... boring I guess."

" _'Boring'_ -"

"Not as an insult!" Kutner interjects. "You're just very stable. Solid. You've got everything figured out, some sort of master of the universe. You're the good kind of boring. Like the 'drinks dry white wine' kind of boring." 

Taub's quiet for a second, but his grip on the steering wheel loosens, and he glances back at Kutner in the passenger seat, who looks like he's weighing the pros and cons of tucking and rolling.

"Thank you, I think. I prefer beer, or a really good cosmopolitan, though." Taub says as he backs into a parking space.

Kutner looks back up at him and grins. "Of course you like cosmos."

Taub opens his mouth to protest before Kutner cuts him off again. "Be prepared for the most mediocre-at-best cosmo you've ever had."

-

Kutner was right, the cosmopolitan is about as good as you'd expect something that was made by someone who looks like they're twelve (Taub has half a mind to investigate further and ask if the kid's even old enough to do algebra, let alone serve alcohol. The other half of his mind decides he doesn't actually care all that much.). It's hard to screw up a beer, though.

He's decided to limit himself to two, just so he can get him and Kutner home safely. He would like to claim he made the decision to play designated driver out of the goodness of his heart, but really the decision was made for him when Kutner started drinking like a monster about five minutes after they got there. And he's pretty sure Kutner doesn't have a drivers license that'd be valid in New Jersey, anyways.

It's about 11:30, and Kutner's about six of some fruity, high percentage, toilet cleanser smelling drink Taub's never even heard of in before the bartender decides it's probably best to cut him off before he pukes, or worse, climbs on the small stage to do karaoke, which are both possible and horrible. Kutner quietly _boos_ when the bartender hands him back his five, but ultimately decides it's better to lean his head on Taub's shoulder than argue.

They'd been making polite conversation the entire night, Kutner's talking about movies, new ones and older ones they show at a drive in out in Trenton ("It's sort of a long drive, but it's totally worth it." he says) and Taub's talking about work, the last case, and House's general ridiculousness ("I just cannot believe Cuddy would've actually let him _consider_ hiring someone without a medical license." he complains, and Kutner nods sympathetically). Kutner's a giggly drunk, and a touchy one at that. He laughs at every joke Taub makes, even the bad ones ( _especially_ the bad ones), his hand coming up to rest on Taub's wrist and his knees angling in towards Taub's, so it's not that weird when he leans over with a sigh and plops his head onto his shoulder. Not weird at all. It's kinda nice, actually.

"You wanna head home now?" Taub asks, and he can feel Kutner's mouth curve into a smile against his neck, the vibrations of him giggling against his collarbone. He doesn't understand what's all that funny, but he laughs along because it feels like the right thing to do.

"Yeah, I can walk." Kutner says, and he tries to lift his head up, but apparently it's gotten much heavier since they got here, because he doesn't get very far before letting it fall back down onto Taub.

Taub laughs. "No, you absolutely _cannot_. I'm pretty sure you were drinking hand sanitizer."

Kutner blows a raspberry and Taub grimaces at the flecks of spit that land on his neck. "'Course I can," Kutner slurs as Taub reaches for a napkin, "I picked this spot 'cause it was so close to my place 'cause I didn't wanna inconvenience you."

"You didn't have to do that," Taub says, wiping the saliva from his neck and around Kutner's mouth. "I was planning on driving you home anyways."

Kutner grins, big and with teeth as he breaks into another fit of giggles. "You're so nice," he says, drawing out the "sss."

Taub smiles back, and it's only a little stilted. He wraps an arm around Kutner's back, hoisting him up and off the bar stool. "Yeah, sure I am. Now let's get you home."

Kutner lets out a _"Woo!"_ as Taub practically carries him to the door, which is harder than it sounds. Kutner weighs less than him, but he's also about half a foot taller, so his legs drag on the ground as Taub helps him through the door.

He gently shoves Taub away and declares confidently "I can make it!" before immediately almost face-planting into the bumper of a Outlander Sport. Taub holds him up by the arm and looks at him bemusedly as he tries to stumble his way to Taub's car on the other side of the parking lot. It's endearing, in a way.

Kutner trips his way to the passenger door of the car and braces himself on the handle before looking back up at Taub, who's a couple yards away, and smiling, wide and dopey and shiny. 

"Told ya I could make it." he says smugly, yanking open the door, which almost sends him backwards onto his ass before he catches himself on a handicapped sign. Taub snorts and gives him two thumbs up before lowering himself into the drivers seat.

"Willis, right?" he asks, and Kutner responds by letting his head fall back down onto Taub's shoulder as he fiddles with his hand from its place on the gear shift. 

"Earth to Kutner," Taub says, shrugging his shoulder to get his attention, and Kutner perks up a little bit. "You live on Willis, right?"

"Yep." Kutner says, blinking sleepily.

"Are you gonna stay on my shoulder the whole ride there?"

Kutner sobers up a little bit at that, lines of concern creasing his forehead. "Is that alright?"

"Sure." Taub says, it's an immediate reaction. He only stops to consider what he said after he says it. It's not _cheating_. They're friends (If they weren't before, they were now, that's for sure). Friends help friends when they're drunk and had a blowout at work with their coworker. If this is what Kutner needs, this is what he needs. It's not cheating. It's not even romantic. Taub leaning into it is just a physiological reaction, or maybe it's just him being a good friend. Whatever it is, it's not cheating.

Kutner smiles, and Taub's stomach dips a little, and he doesn't know why. His tolerance is better than that. Maybe drunkenness is contagious.

"Okay." Kutner says, and true to his word, his head's on Taub's shoulder the whole way there.

-

Kutner's still leaning on him in the lobby, in the elevator ride up, and when Taub's fiddling with his keys, trying to figure out which one is to the front door.

"It's the one with the Star Trek keychain," Kutner supplies unhelpfully, because they all have keychains on them, and it's dark in the hallway, and Taub's not a fucking _nerd_. "The one shaped like the Enterprise."

Taub blinks at him slowly before going back to trying random keys.

When the door swings open, Kutner finally manages to push himself off of Taub and stumbles in, momentum guiding him to flop onto his couch. Taub steps inside and flicks on the lights, and yeah, it looks exactly like the kind of place Kutner would live. Movie posters line the walls along with framed photographs Taub doesn't pay too close of attention to. He catches one out of the corner of his eye, though, Kutner smiling with an older white couple in a cap and gown. Taub takes a moment to be curious, and then the moment's over because Kutner's dry heaving onto his carpet.

Taub's by his side quickly, stepping over a pile of sneakers next to the front door to crouch down next to Kutner, rubbing small circles on his back as he retches and coughs. He doesn't realize he's practically baby-talking (Little whispers of _"It's okay"_ and _"It'll be alright"_ and quiet shushing) until Kutner's done heaving and looking up at him with dinner plates for eyes, blinking owlishly at him.

Taub offers him a smile. "Better?"

Kutner nods, and his eyes still look a little hazy, but Taub supposes he is, in fact, wasted, and he just got done almost-but-not-quite puking onto his rug, so that's not exactly a surprise. Kutner scoots over so there's more room on his sofa and pats the cushion next to him. Taub peers at the clock on the cable box, which boldly declares it to be midnight. He checks his phone, and his last notification was from two hours ago, a text from Rachel, telling him to "Have fun and get home safe! <3" He feels guilty as he stares at the little heart and lifts himself onto the couch next to Kutner, but he can't figure out why.

They sit in silence, Kutner in a staring contest with his own reflection in the television and Taub's kicking his feet through the shag carpeting. He steals a glance at Kutner, and he looks horrible. Maybe even worse than when he was fighting with Cole back in the locker room. His eyes are glazed and his hair's ruffled and messy and there's little flecks of spit and bile on his shirt. And a lilac stain from where he tipped his fifth whatever-he-was-drinking onto himself.

And he just looks _sad_. Not withdrawn and tired, not nervous and embarrassed, not loopy and drunk. Just sad.

Taub's not typically the nosy type, except when he is, and he determines now is the time to be nosy. As a good samaritan, of course. A friend helping a friend.

"Are you alright?" he asks, and Kutner is shaken out of his reverie.

"No, I don't think so."

 _Very helpful answer,_ Taub thinks. "Do you wanna talk about it? It's about Cole, right?"

He laughs, and there's no humor behind it, no drunken giggling or smug chuckling. It's just a noise. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry about what happened. He did what he thought he had to do for his job."

Kutner turns and looks at him, straight in the eyes. "Yeah."

"I mean that doesn't make it right, obviously. But don't let yourself get too worked up over it. After all, you still have the job. He doesn't."

Kutner hasn't broken eye contact with him and Taub can't help but think that their fight at work maybe wasn't entirely work-related. "Yeah." Maybe.

Taub smiles weakly, and he knows he's said the wrong thing at some point, maybe he said every wrong thing he could possibly say, and _damn it_ this is why he isn't nosy! When you get involved, you fuck up, and you make your new work friend you spontaneously invited out for drinks (Which he supposed was his first mistake, he was involved from the very beginning, god _damn_ it.) hate you. He scrabbles for something else to say, anything, anything at all-

"He's a dick."

Kutner looks surprised, and then he laughs, for real this time, no intoxication, no irony, just a laugh straight from his chest, and it makes Taub feel warm on the inside. Now _that_ was the right thing to say.

"Yeah, he is. He really, really is." There's a bitterness in Kutner's voice, but he's smiling at Taub still, so it's alright. Taub feels uncannily just like when he used to shit-talk his high school girlfriends' ex-boyfriends with them.

Kutner's hand is back on his wrist, and he's playing one-sided footsie, which strikes Taub as a little weird because he's pretty sure Kutner had sobered up at least a little bit. But he lets it happen because, hey, it's just being friendly, and he's gently kicking back at Kutner's sneakers, and Kutner's looking at him with just this warm, open expression and- 

And then he's being kissed.

Taub's mouth apparently works _way_ faster than his brain, because it takes him more than a moment to realize he's leaning into it, and it takes him a few more seconds to realize he should definitely be pushing Kutner off of him. So he does.

Kutner jumps back all the way to the other side of the sofa like he's been burned. His lips are parted, like there's an apology at the tip of his tongue.

"It's okay," Taub says, before he can say anything. "You didn't do anything wrong it's just that- you know. I'm married."

Kutner's mouth snaps shut and he nods sharply, pulling at the yarn at the edge of his sleeve, trying to avoid eye contact. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Taub repeats. _Okay, you should leave now. Wish him a good night and leave._ his brain says. Taub's legs don't agree, because no matter what he tries he can't get himself to _move_.

Kutner looks up from the apparently very interesting frayed hem of his sweater and raises an eyebrow at Taub, like he's expected to leave and slam the door by now.

Taub grabs him by his shoulders and pulls him in for a kiss, and their teeth click together a little painfully, but that's alright because Kutner's got his hands fisting in his shirt and he's licking into his mouth _like that_ and he's letting out cute little sighs when Taub bites at his bottom lip and it's just all very _good_.

Kutner pushes on his chest so he can take in a shuddering breath for air while Taub takes to his neck, mouthing and biting his way down to his collarbone before Kutner hoists him back up to eye level to look at him.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

Taub leans down to plant a gentle peck on his lips. "Are you?"

Kutner takes him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back in for a deeper kiss, nipping at his lip before pulling away. 

"Well, you're definitely not boring."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @pennsylvaniagoth
> 
> i have no idea how slow a burn this will be or even if this will ever be finished but i'm on a fucking hyperfixation induced roll babey so expect to be annoyed by me in this tag for at least a week
> 
> also the titles a mitski lyric because of course it is. of course.


	2. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they eat breakfast, they talk, they're idiots

It takes Taub a second to register where he is the next morning. He feels warm, for starters, profusely but pleasantly warm, in a way he hasn't felt in what feels like _forever_. He feels brightness from sunlight filtering in through the blinds, stinging the back of his eyelids, yelling for him _Wake up! Wake up!_ And then he feels an overwhelming sense of _oh shit_ because there's an arm wrapped around his waist, and either Rachel's finally taken the initiative to be the big spoon or-

His eyes open, squinting in a fight against the Sun. His vision comes into focus, and he's greeted with Kutner's sleeping face, drooling against the pillow. _Damn it._

His phone says the time is 10:45, and also that he has two missed calls and a text from Rachel. The text reads "So which one of you had too much to drink? I work early, I'll see you tonight. Love you <3" The emoticon heart mocks him from the screen, and his stomach feels like it's full of worms.

Taub surveys the damage; his shirt's open, no bruises, but little divots from Kutner's fingernails along his chest. His pants are still on, kind of, albeit unbuttoned and pulled down to his knees. There's undeniably a dried wet spot next to him on the fitted sheet, which is _very_ gross but also means he can at least check STIs off the list of things to be worried about. Not that Kutner would have syphilis and then not tell him, he's a doctor, he knows better. Probably.

Kutner's a little worse off, his sweater and button-up were thrown _somewhere_ (Taub would guess in the living room), and he has a trail of deep red splotches that are definitely going to bruise purple leading down from his jugular, disappearing under the quilt that was thrown haphazardly on top of them. Taub feels himself try to burrow underneath the blanket, never to be seen again because _Jesus Christ, Kutner has to see Cole's_ kid _today_ and he looks like a _hemophiliac_.

Also he cheated. Again. There's also that.

The fact that Kutner's a man doesn't freak him out, he's always been acutely aware that he's attracted to men and women. Rachel knows too, and she's fine with it. _Because she's fine with everything you do_ , he thinks, and his stomach clenches around nothing but two beers and half of a bad cosmopolitan. 

It's the fact that he gave in so easily, so willingly. He wasn't even drunk, he was tipsy at _best_. Two years clean, after quitting a job that he loved to save his marriage, and he throws it all away because his coworker gave him _puppy dog eyes_. He's unbelievable.

There's stirring next to him, Kutner rolling onto his back, blinking sleepily up at a ceiling fan. He runs a hand through his mess of hair before turning to Taub with a lazy smile on his face. "Good morning," he says, fighting his way through a yawn.

Taub gives him a smile back, and he knows it looks forced, because it is to some degree. His hands are folded in his lap and he's put about five inches of space between him and Kutner, which is a big difference from the _no_ inches of space they had before. If Kutner notices how awkward Taub looks, he doesn't say anything; he rolls out of bed (No pants, but boxers, which is good, because Taub thinks his brain would've short circuited if he was completely naked. It would've felt too real.) and pulls on a Berkeley sweatshirt he retrieved from a pile on the floor.

"Do you like Lucky Charms, or do you want me to order something for pick-up? Whatever we do, it can't involve me touching a stove, unless you like the taste of burnt."

Taub almost laughs, but he catches himself after he remembers _why_ he's in Kutner's apartment, so he covers it up with a cough. "No, that's fine. I can just, uh..." he trails off. Kutner's sat himself on the bed, much closer to Taub than before, absently playing with the pull strings on his hoodie as he stares at him, waiting for him to continue. It's all very distracting. 

"I can just grab something on the way home." Taub finishes, clearing his throat. He feels a little flushed, and Kutner's got this shit-eating grin on his face, so he knows he's probably beet-red. 

"You're very easy to make blush." Kutner says, so matter-of-factly, and then he just _walks_ away, which is appalling to Taub, because who just casually _says_ that? Before he can issue a complaint, Kutner's fished his cellphone from the pocket of his discarded jeans and is already dialing a number.

"I'm calling ahead from Mickey's, their blueberry waffles are the only good thing about living in New Jersey." he says, and he pauses to look up at Taub. "You take me as a French toast kind of guy."

Taub's only upset because he's right.

-

They drive out together, Taub borrowing a t-shirt that's a couple sizes too big. Kutner sits unnecessarily close to him in the _Wait For Pick-Up_ area at the front of the diner. They play Chopsticks while they wait for their food, because Kutner can't sit in silence for more than forty seconds, and Kutner wins every time, somehow. Taub accuses him of cheating, and Kutner very sweetly advises him to "suck less" next time. They play four more rounds and Taub loses every single one.

Taub somehow ends up carrying both the takeout boxes as he and Kutner walk side-by-side to the car, taking turns elbowing each other in the side. He catches himself laughing again, having _fun_ , as he delivers a particularly hard blow to Kutner's ribcage and he stumbles overdramatically to lean on the trunk of Taub's car, covering his face with his hand delicately like a Southern belle.

"You've killed me," he groans. "I have died."

Taub snorts. "Alright, get in the car."

"I can't. I've died. _Blegh_." Kutner says.

"Shame, then. Guess I'll have to eat your waffles."

Kutner's in the passenger seat in a heartbeat.

"Thought you were dead?" Taub asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You went to med-school, the cure to death is incentive." he replies, grabbing the takeout boxes from Taub's lap. "We should bring some of Mickey's waffles down to the morgue, we'd change so many lives."

Taub laughs as he turns the key in the ignition, glancing over at Kutner, who's struggling with opening the container of waffles.

"You have a weird way of making things less awkward." he says fondly.

Kutner looks up at him, smiling, and pops a blueberry in his mouth with a wink.

"What's there to be awkward about?"

-

Back to Kutner's apartment, back to Kutner's couch. And things _are_ less awkward, but still weird, there's no avoiding that when the patent pending Chris Taub _Guilt Alarm_ is beeping in his head.

He's got his box of French toast sat in front of him while Saturday morning cartoons play on the television. Kutner keeps snatching strawberries and swiping fingertips of whipped cream from the top of Taub's breakfast, never learning his lesson when Taub smacks his hand away every time.

"Haven't you ever heard 'sharing is caring'?" he asks through a mouthful of waffle, nursing his hand.

"Haven't you ever heard 'you have your own food'?"

Kutner looks indignant. "Food you are more than welcome to have some of," he says, pushing the waffles, now cut up into squares, towards Taub. "I'm telling you, they're life changing."

"I don't like blueberries."

"You bring a blueberry muffin to work every morning."

"That I throw away. My, uh-" he stops himself, and the _Guilt Alarm_ kicks into double time, a shrill blare in his head. "My wife makes them. I feel bad not taking one."

Kutner's mouth opens in a silent _"Oh."_ before he slowly pulls his waffles back towards him, turning his attention back to the television.

It's quiet, save for the sounds of He-Man (At least that's what Taub thinks the show is, he's not really paying close attention), for a long while after that, before Taub clears his throat.

"We should probably talk about that."

"What's there to talk about?" Kutner says, suddenly really interested in drawing shapes in the puddles of syrup around his waffle with the tines of his fork.

"What you don't remember? Or you just don't want to?" Taub asks.

Kutner flinches. "I remember. I'm not a blackout. It's just-" he trails off, setting down his fork. "It'll be weird, if we talk about it. I like the way things are right now, and if we acknowledge it, it'll be ruined."

"How are things right now?"

"I don't know." Kutner says. "We're just being _friends_ , y'know? It's been... _really_ nice, hanging out with you. I don't want you to get all weird on me and run away because of what we did."

"Kutner, we can still be _friends_. Last night didn't mean anything, okay? It's forgotten. We just needed to talk about it so we could agree on that."

Kutner smiles at him, but his eyes look pained, and Taub gets the sense he's said the wrong thing again. 

"What's the matter?" he asks, and he gently puts a hand on Kutner's back that he tries to shy away from.

"I, uh-" he stutters, trying to maintain eye contact with Taub, but his eyes keep drifting to the hand on his back. "I still kinda wanna kiss you."

Taub stops for a second, but only for a second, before he feels himself leaning in towards Kutner. He doesn't even think about it. He's not thinking about anything at all, actually. He moves slowly, like he's trying not to scare a wild animal, before gently pressing their lips together, no more than a second long, more of a peck than a kiss.

He pulls back and Kutner's face is unreadable. "Please don't do this to me," he says.

Taub nods, he understands he's gone too far, and he turns to stand up and leave before Kutner grabs his hand. "Please don't go."

He laces their fingers together. "So what do you want me to do?"

Kutner laughs mirthlessly. "I don't know. Divorce your wife?" It's not a funny joke, Taub doesn't even think it's a joke at all. A suggestion, maybe.

Taub looks at his left hand, the one holding Kutner's, staring at the golden wedding, glinting with shame. "Can't do that. I love her."

Kutner looks skeptical, if only for a moment. "Then I guess you probably wanna leave now, huh." It's phrased like a question, but said like a statement.

Taub gives him a smile, a strained one. "Can't do that, either."

Kutner just looks tired, now. "Then what are you going to do?"

He sighs. "I think... we can have both."

Kutner quirks an eyebrow. "Like a friends-with-benefits, thing? That never works out, especially if we're gonna be coworkers-"

"Well, it seems like both of us are more interested in the 'friends' aspect, anyways. The benefits could just be an added, rare bonus. A friends-who-only-occasionally-benefit, thing."

Kutner gives him a hard stare. "That is the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

"It's the only compromise I've got, unless you want to throw an idea on the table."

It's quiet for a bit after that, Kutner making intense eye contact with his cold waffles as Taub swings their linked hands back and forth, back and forth. Kutner lets out a sigh through his nose, and turns to look back at Taub. "Okay. That works for me."

Taub smiles at him, a real one, and he can tell Kutner's holding one back as he pinches his lips together tightly. "You should probably head home, friend o'mine." he says. "I'll go get your shirt." And with that, Kutner lets go of his hand and walks back to the bedroom.

Taub grabs his fork and steals a bite of blueberry waffle. It's the best thing he's ever tasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @pennsylvaniagoth
> 
> YEEHAW my idiocy cannot be CONTAINED


	3. games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> people are fired, ground rules are set, pancakes are eaten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pov switch to kutner who is MUCH easier to write than taub if ur curious

"He is _unbelievable_!"

Kutner sets the wooden spoon (More like a popsicle stick, if he really thinks about it) back into his ice cream cup in exchange for discreetly covering his ears. Man, Amber could be _shrill_ sometimes.

They'd been sitting in the lecture hall for two hours, according to his watch, maybe a little less, but it feels like sixty years has passed and he's got acute onset dementia already, or maybe cataracts or some shit like that. He never did well with waiting, and he's especially not doing well with it when his job's on the line. 

A job that requires him to demoralized and disrespected constantly, but it's funny like a solid seventy five to eighty percent of the time, so it's alright.

"Maybe he's finishing up the paperwork for the patient?" he suggests, and Amber gives him a stare that makes him shrink back into his seat.

"I don't think House even knows what a discharge form looks like, let alone how to fill one out." Taub pipes up, licking the ice cream off his own spoon. Kutner'd used Taub's card to buy it, so he was legally required to split it. And it was half-vanilla, half-chocolate anyways; Taub was more than welcome to the gross flavor.

"Maybe he's waiting for _some of us_ to shut up and stop complaining." Thirteen says. She's sat about four rows behind him and Taub, and she had been silent the entire time. Kutner had kinda forgotten she was even there.

"He already ended the game, he's not gonna add some new 'griped the least when I tried to starve them out' bonus round to decide on who stays." Taub says.

Thirteen scoffs. "If you think he wouldn't do that, then I don't know who you've been working for for eight weeks." 

"Well, it's _childish_ , then." Amber says, and it's directed at the door, daring House to walk through.

Kutner shrugs. "And you're surprised? He made up a contest to steal his boss's underwear." He loads a ball of lint from his coat pocket into the end of his spoon and takes aim at Taub's forehead. "I wouldn't say he's the pinnacle of maturity."

Taub doesn't even look up from checking his pager while he slaps Kutner's hand down. "Just because it's expected doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

"Yep, just keep talking." Thirteen says, closing her eyes as she leans back in her seat. "That's definitely gonna be what gets us out of here faster."

"If you wanna leave so bad, just sneak out, like Kutner did." Amber says, hitching her thumb in his general direction. "I'll page you if it looks like he's coming back."

"No, you won't. You'll tell him I quit or died in a horrible workplace accident."

"No, I wouldn't. There's only four of us, if I wanted to get rid of you, I would've a long time ago."

"Except you already tried. Remember the dog collar?" Thirteen opens her eyes to give Amber a bored look. "I've also worked with _you_ for eight weeks, I know how you operate."

"If you both wanna go, then both of you go." Taub says, his head in his hands. "Go get something to eat so you can stop pissing each other off. Me or Kutner will page you if he's coming."

Amber and Thirteen look at each other, and then look back at Kutner. Kutner gives them a reassuring thumbs up. 

Thirteen shrugs nonchalantly and makes a B-line for the door, Amber in her wake, who looks back at them suspiciously.

"If you get me fired, I'll kill you." she says.

"Oh, wouldn't dream of it." Kutner responds.

She shoots him a glare before slipping out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

The silence lasts for a total of eight seconds before Kutner's bored again, so he resorts to old faithful: annoying Taub.

He's been thwarted three times in (very slyly, he might add) trying to pickpocket Taub's car keys before Taub peeks through his fingers at him with a glare. Kutner gives him a smile, a tentative one, like he's asking for something, and he breaks, wrapping an arm around Kutner's shoulders.

Kutner leans into it, playing with the laminated edge of Taub's ID badge. " _Sooo_ , who do you think's gonna get hired?" 

"If I knew that, I wouldn't still be waiting here, now would I? Could've gone home an hour or two ago."

"Okay, _grumpy_ , who do you _want_ to get hired, then?" Kutner pauses, putting his focus into counting all the black and white stripes that make up Taub's barcode (ninety seven) before continuing. "I want it to be you and me."

"Really? I'm personally rooting for me getting fired."

Kutner gives him a light smack. "I will too if you keep this attitude up."

Taub thinks for a moment, before repositioning his grip on Kutner because he's squirming. "You're the one who wanted to do this, stop moving so much. It would make more sense the other way around, anyways."

"Yeah, you're short, but I'm needy, and rock beats scissors." Kutner says. "Now answer the damn question."

" _I was about to_ if you'd let me," Taub replies. "I think it should be you and me, too."

Kutner smiles and nuzzles into his shoulder a little. "And to think I thought you only liked me for my dazzling looks and charming personality. Turns out my doctoring isn't too bad, either."

"Tell that to that patient you set on fire." Taub says, and Kutner narrows his eyes at him. "What? You have no right to look at me like that, you set her on _fire_."

"I saved her life!"

"And also that time you electrocuted yourself."

"Saved his life, too. Plus it earned me House brownie points."

"And-"

"Whatever you're gonna say next, I'm going to assume it ended with me saving their life, considering I still have my medical license." He unwraps Taub's arm from his shoulders and shifts to face the chalkboard, crossing his arms.

"C'mon, don't _pout_." Taub says, pulling on his sleeve. " _Kutner-_ "

"We're gonna run out of male coworkers for you to have a falling out with by next month at this rate, Kutner. And you can't have Wilson, he's booked."

Both of them turn to face House, who's come in with Amber and Thirteen in tow. "Found these delinquents arguing over a bag of Cheetos in the cafeteria." He pauses, feigning thinking. "Actually, it sounded more like they were arguing over whether or not you two would betray them, but the bag of Cheetos was definitely there."

"So are we fired or not?" Amber demands, and she shoots Kutner a withering look, who holds up his hands in defense.

"Don't look at me, he never came anywhere near here."

"He's right. And I can assure you, the results have nothing to do with whether you left the room or not."

"Then why were you gone for two hours?" Taub asks.

"Just said; Wilson was _booked_." House over-exaggeratedly winks at Taub, who wrinkles his nose.

"Please don't ever make me think about that again."

"Now then!" House interrupts. He holds a CD aloft, showing it off like a magician, before blowing a cloud of dust from it. He pops it in the player and clicks the tiny "play" button, quiet guitar strumming and gentle vocals filling the air. "Some mood music."

Kutner taps his fingers on his knee to the beat. "Sounds a bit folksy to me."

House gives him a look. "You never know when to shut up, do you?"

-

They're sitting in Taub's car (Taub's been taking him home instead of the bus recently, because they're _friends_ now, and friends who have received multiple blowjobs from their friend aren't allowed to let said friend be cold and miserable on the bus.) letting the news wash over them. They made it. Eight weeks of the worst hiring process ever devised and they made it.

Kutner's still a little mad, but he's willing to let it go for the sake of a celebration, including celebratory breakfast for dinner (It's his turn to choose the restaurant, and he'll be damned if he doesn't abuse that power to get pancakes at 11:00 PM) and a celebratory handjob. He lets his hand wander over to rest on Taub's knee as a declaration of peace.

"Hey," he says, and Taub doesn't look up, he just stares at the hand on his knee like it's going to attack him if he looks away. " _Hey_. Mission control to Chris, come in Chris. We survived."

Taub looks up at him. "We need to make some rules."

"Rules?" Kutner asks, even though he feels like he knows where they're headed. "What do you mean by _'rules'_?"

"Just to be cautious." Taub's back to refusing eye contact, instead deciding to fiddle with the Caduceus staff keychain Kutner had gotten him ( _"See, your keys were so_ boring _before."_ he had said, fixing the clasp shut for him.) "We almost got caught."

"But we didn't."

"But we almost did! I'm lucky I made you mad or else-" he cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath. "They would've seen us."

"So? Who cares? It's not like they're all conspiring to ruin your career, I don't think they would've cared."

"Have you _met_ House? Or Amber even? Two most manipulative bitches in that hospital. I- _we_ would've been their slaves for the rest of our lives with that kind of blackmail."

" _You_ would've been their slave." Kutner says. "I don't really care _who_ knows what we're doing. Besides, _you're_ the one who came up with this arrangement, anyways, what do you care?"

"I'm really glad you can live carefree with the fact that you're sleeping with your coworker, but I've got my _marriage_ on the line, Kutner." Taub sighs and rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms. "I want to keep seeing you. I like seeing you. I like being friends with you. But I love her. I can't ruin this."

Kutner drew back his mouth into a thin line at the mention of the _M Word_. He didn't like thinking about it, especially when he was with Taub. It always ruined the moment for him.

"Okay. So rules." he says. _God_ he was in too deep.

Taub finally looks at him again, relieved. "Right. Rules." He pauses to think. "Rule number one: no touching in public."

"Hand shakes, high fives?" Kutner chimes in. "It'd look even more suspicious if we started just avoiding touching each other."

"Okay then, rule number one amendment: purely friendly touching is okay. Rule number two: no talking about it in public."

"Yes, because before I was shouting 'I have sex with Taub sometimes!' wildly around the halls. I'll have to have the sky writer cancelled."

"Ha ha. You said something about me only liking you for your looks-"

"That would've easily been taken as sarcasm by any normal person."

"House isn't normal. He's an obsessive-"

"And so are you, apparently."

"An obsessive _genius_. As much as I hate to say it, he's smarter than all of us put together. If anyone would figure it out based on some inconspicuous 'joke,' it'd be him."

Kutner inhales through his nose. "Fine. Agreed. Rules accepted."

Taub looks almost guilty for a second before putting a hand gently on Kutner's wrist. Kutner tries to shimmy away but there's only so far to move in a car seat.

"I'm sorry."

"No you aren't."

"Yes, I am."

"You're sorry because I'm angry at you."

"Yeah, that's probably part of the reason." Taub says, and he settles in closer to Kutner. "You are cute when you're mad, though."

"Don't you dare try and get all sappy on me now, you son of a bitch. Using my own tactics against me, except _worse_. It's insulting."

"It's true! Your forehead and nose get all scrunched up and you get all pouty."

"Oh, shut up."

Taub sighs and leans his head against Kutner shoulder, and Kutner instinctively wraps his arm around him and _damn it_ Taub's already won. He always wins.

"I'm sorry I said you weren't a good doctor. You are. Unconventional, but good."

"Thank you."

"Don't get formal on me now, idiot." Taub presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat and Kutner's hold on him tightens. "You've changed so many lives because you think outside the box, but you never go too far. You always put the patient first, never the answer."

"Don't think our boss would think that's a good thing."

"Good thing I'm not your boss, then, otherwise what we're doing would be weird."

"Like it's not already weird."

"You like weird."

"I do. I like this. And I like you."

Taub gives him a kiss on the cheek, soft and sweet, before turning the key in the ignition.

"Now, what do you want for dinner?"

"Get me some pancakes before I start chewing on your seat covers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @pennsylvaniagoth
> 
> kutner's a simp but so is taub so it's okay


	4. it's a wonderful lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's christmas time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet u whores thought u'd seen the last of me

"You wanna come over tomorrow?"

Kutner raises an eyebrow and talks around a mouthful of half-chewed veggie burger. "I thought we were going to my place? Y'know, get wasted, watch those old stop motion Christmas movies, pass out in our own vomit."

Taub grimaces. "Don't talk with your mouth full. And I can't come over, anymore. Rachel's planning a party and she wants me there. Bunch of her friends and their husbands."

"I thought you guys were Jewish?"

"We are, but her friends aren't. She likes fitting in, and next thing you know, she's talked her way into a hole." He aggressively swirls a fry around in a pool of ketchup. "Now we're having a Christmas party."

"You sound thrilled." Kutner says, slowly inching his hand closer to Taub's serving of fries. "Tell her you're working late. House has been subtly hinting for us to organize the patient files for like a week now, anyways. The pile in front of the door is starting to get too big to step over."

Taub looks up at him, unimpressed, and pushes the rest of the French fries over to Kutner. "Just take them. And yeah, that'll go well. She already _loves_ House, she'll like him even more when I'm skipping her party to go be his secretary."

"You wouldn't actually be organizing files-"

"Yeah, I picked up on that." Taub checks his watch and swears, crumpling up his burger wrapper to shove it into their communal garbage bag. "Lunch break's over, we've got clinic duty."

Kutner grabs his arm before he can stand, pulling him back into the booth. "We're still gonna have clinic duty if we're ten minutes late instead of five. You really want me to go?"

"Of course I do," he says, plucking Kutner's hand off his forearm. "Rachel's gonna be busy 'hostessing' all night, I need someone there."

The openness of how much of a second choice he is stings a little bit, but not enough to be worth picking a fight over. "I thought her friends' husbands were going, too?" 

"I'd put money on half of them skipping and the other half being boring. Watching old Spartans games on the couch in silence isn't my definition of a good time."

Kutner grins smugly and takes a sip of his soda. "Never thought you'd miss sci-fi movies, huh?"

"I barely watch them, anyways. You talk through them." Taub ducks to avoid the straw wrapper launched at his head. "You _do_. Are you gonna come or not?"

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and swirls his straw slowly around the rim of his cup. "Don't you think it might be a little weird?"

Taub clears his throat and gives him a swift kick under the table. "Why would it be weird?"

Kutner narrows his eyes and gives him a kick back, right in ankle, a little harder than strictly necessary. "You don't think bringing your coworker to a party your wife is throwing for _her_ friends on a major holiday is a little weird?"

"Oh." An embarrassed flush colors Taub's cheeks pink, and he squirts some more ketchup onto Kutner's fries as an apology. "Yeah. I guess so. Didn't think about that."

"But, hey, while _you_ put us on the subject, the other thing's an issue too. We don't have to, y'know, _talk_ about it, God forbid, but that contributes to the weirdness." Kutner says, and he realizes how bitter he sounds, he does, but he feels justified. He'll have time to regret it later.

"It wouldn't have to be weird." Taub says, though he doesn't sound particularly confident. "She has no reason to think anything of it, and you do that thing where you make awkward situations not awkward by just spouting off random shit."

"Gee, thanks." Kutner replies flatly. He finally stands up and brushes the crumbs from his lap. "Still think I'm gonna have to pass, though."

"C'mon, you'd make it fun." Taub picks up their fast food bag of garbage and free throws it into the trash can on their way out the door. "You wouldn't even have to talk to her, if you didn't want to. It's a short dinner, and then the women go drink wine and talk shit around the kitchen island while the guys watch something terrible on television. Like every other party full of middle aged people."

"You're really selling me on this one, dude. I've completely changed my mind about spending my Christmas Eve eating hors d'oeuvres with a bunch of people I don't know." 

"Remember the part where I said _you_ would make it fun? And I'd be there, you know _me_. Some might even go as far as to say that you like me."

"Not too sure about that last part." Kutner hums nonchalantly, and that's a lie, a boldfaced lie, and he's sure they both know it, so before Taub can call him on it, he speeds ahead (Longer legs, get fucked.) towards the front desk.

"Doctors Kutner and Taub, clocking in at 1:52. Sorry we're late." he tells the receptionist (Brenda? He thinks that's her name.) with a sheepish grin. Brenda (Barbara? Beth?) smiles understandingly and points them towards exam rooms three and four.

They walk through the hallway side by side (odd doors on the left, evens on the right) and Kutner plucks the file from the holder on the wall, giving it a cursory glance. "'Respiratory problems. Two year old girl.'" he reads. "My money's on pneumonia, it's always pneumonia."

"That or a blockage, Lego up the nose, maybe." Taub shrugs and flips through his own patient file. "'Dry rash and low-grade fever. Sixteen year old boy.'"

"Aw, that's way more interesting. Swap me?"

"Absolutely not. You have fun with baby snot."

"I won't, because it's _boring_ baby snot."

Taub laughs, quiet and surprised, the same laugh reserved for whenever Kutner says some ridiculous shit at work, and reaches for exam room three's doorknob before pausing. He turns around to look at Kutner on the other side of the hall. "I'm still taking you home, right?"

"I mean, yeah. Unless you don't want to." Kutner says. "I left my bus pass at home, though, so that'd be kinda awkward."

Taub blinks at him before shaking his head with a chuckle. "Of course. See you at six."

"See you."

-

They're parked outside Kutner's building, heater on full blast but Taub's still shivering because the bastard's _always_ cold. Naturally, Kutner's wound his scarf around his neck and would've draped his jacket over him by now if Taub would stop _arguing_. Naturally. It's the obvious thing to do.

"You're gonna _freeze_ to death," he tuts, swatting Kutner's hands aside. "It's like 20 degrees."

"But you're _cold_..." Kutner replies, drawing the end of 'cold' out into a whine. He leans in closer trying to get his coat around his shoulders but Taub's too fast for him (somehow) and grabs his hands, lacing their fingers together to keep him still.

"I've foiled you," he says as Kutner pouts. "I've foiled you in your evil plan to give yourself bronchitis."

"Traitor." Kutner sniffs, and he withdraws, leaning back against the cool glass of the window, keeping his and Taub's hands connected.

"A traitor for a good cause. You'd be bored out of your mind if you had to be bedridden for a week. I don't think you'd survive."

Kutner hums in agreement, and then they sit in a comfortable almost-silence, the low-volume of the Christmas radio station and the grumble of the car motor melting into white noise. Taub releases his hands, and Kutner cracks open an eye, taking that as his cue to leave. Instead, he's greeted with a tiny, gift wrapped box shoved at his chest.

"Merry Christmas." Taub says quietly, staring resolutely through the windshield, though Kutner sees him sneaking a glance at him through his peripherals every now and again.

Kutner smiles, he can't help it, he _smiles_ , big and cheesy and it feels like his face is about to crack in half. He rips at the paper (It _was_ actually pretty nicely wrapped. Whoops.) covering the small box and pops open the lid. In it is a small Pikachu keychain, winking at him with it's hand in a perpetual peace sign, resting on a mound of blue tissue paper. He lifts it up and lets it swing like a disco ball from his index finger, mesmerized by the slow spin in the light of passing cars headlights. 

"It's not much," Taub says, snapping Kutner out of his reverie. "But it seemed like something you would like. Not like _you_ can ever have enough keychains."

"Nope!" Kutner says brightly, and he's already halfway out of the car. Taub gives him the most confused stare he's ever seen in his life. "Wait there, I'll be right back!" he calls over his shoulder, and then he's racing up the steps, because the elevator takes too long, you have to _wait_.

He jams his key into the lock, swings open his door and rushes to his kitchen table, where there's a bag, stuffed with tissue paper and ribbons (He's never been good at actually wrapping gifts, there's always either not enough or too much paper). Bag in hand, he doesn't even bother to think about relocking his door, he rushes back down the stairs, skidding to a halt on the sidewalk next to Taub's car.

Kutner huffs and puffs and he has to lean onto the limited parking sign as he wheezes. Taub gets out of his car and puts a hand on his back to steady him out while Kutner catches his breath.

"You didn't have to _sprint_ , I would've waited." he says, almost scolding, as he takes the gift bag out of Kutner's hand.

Kutner looks up at him with a sparkly, toothy grin, his breathing not yet settled. "I was excited." he says simply, and Taub nods, like _No kidding!_ , but there's something kinda soft about the way he's looking at him and it makes Kutner's insides get all mushy. "Open it, open it, open it!"

Taub sticks his hand through the thick layers of tissue and fishes around, pulling out his gift with a little bit of a struggle. It's a Fleetwood Mac vinyl, the album Kutner knows he has the scratched up, God-knows how old CD of that he plays in his car 24/7.

"Oh!" he says, turning the record around in his hands, almost disbelieving. "Oh my God."

Kutner bounces up and down on his toes. "Do you like it?"

Taub looks up at him with a smile, fond and kind and _Jesus_ , Kutner could forget how to breathe again. "Of course I like it." he says softly. "It makes my gift look kinda lame, though."

"Are you kidding? I love it!" Kutner says, dangling the Pikachu off his pinkie finger. "Novelty keychains are the best way to my heart."

Taub shakes his head with a laugh. "You're so easy to please." he says, taking one last glance over of the record before he looks back up at Kutner, guilt evident on his face. "I'm sorry I had to cancel for tomorrow."

There's a little twinge of pain that hits Kutner right in his heart, but he brushes it off, because this moment's great, it's great and it's good, and he's not gonna let the semantics of their relationship ruin it for him. "It's okay, we don't have to talk about it."

He nods, a slight motion, almost unnoticeable, and then his face breaks into a devious little smile. "Hey, is that mistletoe?"

Kutner's confused, but only for a second,and then he's laughing so hard he has to put out his hand to support himself on the pole again. "You _dork_ , we're outside."

"I'm sure there's a mistletoe constellation, or something. You'd know better than me."

"If you want a kiss, you can just ask, y'know."

"Alright then," Taub says, and he's still got this stupid smile on his face, though Kutner's sure he looks the same. "May I have a kiss?"

"Maybe." he replies as he leans in. It's short and it's sweet and Taub's on his tip toes (Kutner's always thought that was absolutely _adorable_ ) and when they pull away, Kutner wants to tell him everything, everything that's stuck in his throat, everything in an attempt to make him stay the night, maybe an eternity, if he's lucky. But he's got to let him go. He always has to.

"Thank you for the gift." he says instead. "Happy nondenominational winter holiday."

Taub snorts, and turns to open his car door, tossing the gift bag into the passenger's seat. "Thank _you_." he says, and there's this sort of fondness in his voice. "Merry Christmas, Lawrence."

"Merry Christmas, Chris."

Kutner's all the way back in his apartment before he realizes Taub still has his scarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @pennsylvaniagoth
> 
> this chapter actually made me lose my mind there's about five other versions of this in my notes app
> 
> also please don't try and come for me for rachel throwing a christmas party for her goy friends i am jewish and it is written from personal experience of my mother not knowing how to say no to people

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @pennsylvaniagoth
> 
> i have no idea how slow a burn this will be or even if this will ever be finished but i'm on a fucking hyperfixation induced roll babey so expect to be annoyed by me in this tag for at least a week 
> 
> also the titles a mitski lyric because of course it is. of course.


End file.
